


Savor every part

by RobinWritesChirps



Category: Twisted: The Untold Story of a Royal Vizier - Holmes/McMahon/Lang & Lang & Gale
Genre: Canon Universe, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff and Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-08-20 00:43:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20218996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobinWritesChirps/pseuds/RobinWritesChirps
Summary: Ja'far has been working at home all night and Sherrezade offers him some well deserved relief.aka I will take every damn verse in "A Thousand and One Nights" and turn it into a fic title if I have to do it all alone.





	Savor every part

Ja'far looked up from his papers for the first time in hours and noticed that night had fallen long ago. The room was warmly bathed in the fading twinkle of the lamp but outside the windows, he saw only pitch dark. He glanced at Sherrezade, half expecting her to have gone to bed already, but there she was, still sprawled elegantly across her favorite chair with a thick book in her hands. Only, instead of being deeply engrossed in it as she had been before he set himself to work, she was now staring at him with a worried brow. Ja'far was tired, even utterly exhausted, but when their eyes met he could only feel relief and peace.

"How is progress coming along?" She asked, undemanding, for she couldn't possibly have missed the sighs of frustration all night and the previous nights he had spent on rewriting this law project.

"It isn't," he groaned. "I'm starting to think that it never will. Maybe I'm being too optimistic..."

She stood and, arms up above her head, stretched her long and thin body that held all the beauty and suppleness of a fancy cat. For a heartbeat, Ja'far was distracted by the way the muscles at her belly tensed with the motion and loosened again as she strode the few steps between the two of them. He only had to take one brief look at the messy stack of first and second and hundredth drafts littering his desk for his heart to swell with worry and helplessness again. Sherrezade's hands touched his shoulders, the pleasant and all too familiar weight of them soothing him through the fabric of his tunic as she tried to rub his problems away with her affection. He leaned back his head against her chest and closed his eyes. If only there was nothing else to life than his Sherrezade. If only he could save the Kingdom from itself but also spend his time with Sherrezade and her only as he longed to.

"It's been a long night," she said softly, the massage getting firmer, more insistent. "Ja'far, my love, you need to rest. Come to bed."

"But I _can't_," he sighed. "My efforts might not be much but sometimes I feel like I'm the only man in the palace who wants the people of the Kingdom to thrive… If I give up, what will be left?"

She pressed a kiss on the crown of his head and circled round him to sit on the table as they spoke. He rested his hand on her knee and hers covered it.

"And the people don't even _want_ to be helped," he added. "I'm trying to pass measures for them to be protected, to be _safe_, and they would much rather lick the boots of the richest men in the realm and crawl under their control."

She gave him the tenderest of smiles. Cupping his jaw, she begged his eyes to hers and he felt instantly calmer.

"I'm only asking you to rest for the night, not to give up entirely, my dear," she said. "And you won't give up. This is what you're made for. You have a heart for compassion and a head to convince others to see your truth. The Kingdom needs your kindness."

He stroked the bare skin of her knee with his thumb, shrugging self-consciously.

"As I need yours, I suppose."

Her fingers lingered and pushed a short strand of hair behind his ear in the most soothing way. At some point during his insufferable long hours of writing this evening, she had changed into a nightgown without him taking notice. Now, it was all he could look at. A present of his on one of his first paychecks as a married man, something white and breezy and sleeveless. He had gotten her many others since, spoiling her beyond reason or sometimes beyond their means, but this one was what she wore most nights even to this day. It had bunched up around her thighs as she sat.

"That, you will always have." She combed her fingers through his hair thickly, deliberately. The hand that had been keeping his at her knee dropped to the table as if granting him greater freedom. Perhaps she didn't know that Ja'far's joy and freedom lay only in hers. "Not just that. The people are ready for you. You just have to show them."

Under Sherrezade's watchful approving eye, Ja'far's fingers traced a gentle path to her thigh, where her skin was softest and their breaths got lost into the touch he gave her, faint as it was.

"Ready for me," he repeated, a whisper. He did not dare disturb the quiet that had fallen upon them. "Sherrezade..."

She twirled a finger into a short curl of his hair, smiling at him knowingly. Leaning farther back, her legs parted and exposed her all the more. He counted it as lucky that only he could hear his own heartbeat, for it would have now been entirely deafening to the point of unpleasantness.

"It's been a long night," she purred and wrapped up Ja'far in her attention. He could not look away from the teasing spark in her eyes. He did not want to, either. "Wouldn't you rather finish this tomorrow?"

Her grasp to his hair tightened ever so slightly, the smile more assertive, more confident. He gulped.

"I _would_ rather finish this tomorrow," he said finally. "Some things can wait." He arranged his papers together in a hurry, making as neat a pile as he could with fumbling fingers, and shoved it inside a drawer, instantly forgotten. "And some cannot."

Sherrezade let out a giggle when he pulled on her hips to bring her to the edge of the desk and barely caught herself on his shoulders, but the laugh became a sigh, became a moan as Ja'far's lips covered every new exposed part of herself with kisses, the knee, the thigh and the inside too where she was so warm. He had reached the very hottest part of her when he stopped, tracing slow and insistent circles against her thighs with the flat of his thumbs. Looking up eagerly, he waited for her, always did.

"No, they cannot," she said, nodding her encouragement.

His fingers first, a touch he never stopped to crave, a pleasure he gave her freely and proudly. She looked down at him without a word, for there was nothing that needed said when her eyes told a whole story. He might have had a story to tell of his own, too. It started with a kiss, punctuating the tale his fingers had introduced. Another closer one, the inside of her thighs caressing his cheeks as he gave her the most intimate of kisses, the most passionate. It was a serenade, a love letter, and Sherrezade took every verse of it like she had been starved of tenderness and poetry all her life and like finally, only now for the first time Ja'far was giving her the gift of love. Her eyes were softly veiled with arousal and he could not look away. More than ever, Ja'far was filled with the most certain of knowledge that his place on this earth, his entire purpose had always been to love her. And how intently, how profoundly he loved her then.

Sherrezade came beautifully, perfectly. He loved to watch her in these moments best of all, for how pure and complete the rise and fall of sensations he had given her. They always looked at each other then, for she could have no true pleasure without sharing it with him, nor could he. Her fingers dug at the back of his neck, encouraging him to keep going till the last of it had run out of her. Gently, she brushed through curls of hair as Ja'far leaned his cheek against her thigh and stared up with a silly satisfied smile. He could have sat there for ages and looked into her eyes forever. Sometimes, he did. Nowhere was as comfortable, as blissful.

"Kiss me, Ja'far."

At once he stood and kissed her and lived for the way she clung to him. Her legs hooked around his waist and trapped him − as if he would have ever wanted to go.

"Will you make love to me?" She asked softly.

He smiled, pressing his forehead to hers, and gave her another kiss. She melted herself so completely to his embrace, a miracle of tenderness.

"Will I?" He kissed her cheek, her ear, whispered into it. "Would you like that very much?"

Her fingers slid between their bodies to untie the sash off of his waist. She palmed him through his trousers, then under them, making him hard and harder. Ja'far groaned as his hips pushed into her touch out of his control.

"So _very_ much," she replied and suddenly her hand was gone and her arms were tight around his shoulders. "Take me to bed, my love."

He would have been just as happy here on this desk, but whatever Sherrezade asked of him was his wish as well. She was forward with her desires, much moreso than him, perhaps because they both knew that nothing made him happier than bending himself to her whims. An arm around her waist, the other under her butt, he took her to bed and his own reward was the way she palmed his arms and shoulders as they tensed with the effort. Sherrezade loved all parts of him as much as he did hers and made no secret to show it. He had never given his body two thoughts before she came into his life but, under her eyes and her touch, he felt stronger and handsomer and better than he ever would be.

He fell back on the bed much more carelessly than he had hoped, but had no time to dwell on it. Sherrezade pushed his back to the mattress and, straddling him, kissed him like they had but the one night left together.

"All that work," she said. "And too little play." Her fingers were so much more nimble than his, tugging his trousers down and off in seconds, contorting herself back to pull it free entirely. "I share you with the Kingdom during the day, Ja'far, can the night belong to us?"

"It-It does," he stuttered, biting back a groan as Sherrezade took him between her hands again, stroking much more leisurely than she had been before now that he was naked under her. She could tease him to madness and he would still love her more than ever. "_And_ the day. All of me belongs to you."

"It does," she echoed, which might have been posed as a question but sounded to him like truthful evidence. "And I to you."

She glanced down briefly. Ja'far was immediately reminded of the insufferable presence of his tunic and awkwardly leaned up on shaky elbows to shrug it off. Sherrezade loved his torso, he had learned. She loved his arms, too, and once had mentioned something in passing about the shape of his calves uncovered in summer. She loved his kisses and his embraces and, now rockhard between her palms, yes, his passion. Only she knew how to ignite it.

She was in no hurry anymore. Sherrezade, more than anyone, knew to bend herself to the rhythm of life, took what she wanted exactly how she wanted it. She set the pace for both of them, always. He wouldn't want it any other way. She smiled. In one swift motion, she pulled off her gown and the treasure underneath was revealed to him.

"Sherrezade," he whispered. Her name was a dream, a prayer. Under his fingers, the skin of her hips impossibly tender and soft. "My sweet, my love."

"Yes, Ja'far," she said. She reached down, pressing him against her and they were so very close yet, so much he craved her, a million miles away. "_Yes_."

One smooth motion, she took him inside her and he swore her eyes glistened with something of magic when she was fully seated and their bodies were joined, briefly as tightly bound as their souls always were. His hands circled around her waist as hers took support on his shoulders. A kiss against the back of her hands and she breathed out with a fond smile.

"I love you," he said.

Behind her, the fading lamp was making a halo of beauty and gold around her head. Her hair was shining with the glow, a curtain of perfection framing her face. Every day, she found a way to be more beautiful, more dear to his heart than the day before.

"I love you so much…"

Slowly, she lifted her hips, much less slowly she brought them down again. He moaned in unison with her. With one look, she beckoned him to touch her and he reached out a hand to give her pleasure again. Her hips rolled with perfect wonder, perfect ease, and she made love to him divinely − surely, there was something godly to her, from a higher world. She looked so content, too, like nothing brought her more joy than being with him, and Ja'far's heart was bursting with love inside his chest.

"I love _you_, Ja'far," she said.

She cupped his face with her hand, stroking his cheek gently, and Ja'far could take it no longer. Prompting himself up, he sat up and kissed her with all the adoration overflowing from his heart. She smiled into his kisses, arms round his neck, till he thrust up more deliberately, deeper too, and she could take them no longer. Her face buried in the crook of his neck, where he could hear her breath more acutely, the way it hitched every time he drove himself all the way inside her. Her arms, her embrace, and the love they made was burning hot around him, a flame that never perished and never would. They moved as one and he asked himself how it was that he had lived before knowing her, for now his life seemed entirely dependent on sharing hers.

The night sky outside the window was black as ink. The amusing thought came that, had Ja'far had his way, he might still have been working on rewriting the law project. How much better Sherrezade's alternative. How perfect it was, and she.

"My dear," he whispered against her ear, "My beautiful wife. If you'll let me."

He cradled her in his arms, flush against him so they would not part even for an instant, and lay her back onto their bed. This was his favorite way of loving her. He loved looking down at her face flushed with pleasure, at the tousled cascade of hair she made on the mattress, he loved the way she hooked her legs around his hips, never to let him go. Her arms around him, her pleading eyes begging him to keep going, to love her as she had just loved him, so clingy her kisses Ja'far could have drowned in the love of her.

She took him so beautifully, so tenderly, giving him such adorable and wholly intoxicating moans with every thrust. He set a more determined pace than before, for he was intent to please her another time before himself. Between her legs, their fingers met together, rubbing her with one same passion. He kissed her. And kissed her, and kissed her till her fist bunched up the linen under it and, just as she bucked her hips more sharply into him, he felt around him the pulse of her pleasure, the beat of their love. Her groan lost itself in his kisses as he lost himself in her. A few moments of bliss, the very last waves of a wonderful tide, and he stilled as well, nothing left but panting breaths slowly catching up.

This was comfort. This was home. Sherrezade's legs untangled from his hips, her arms clasping round his neck and her breath a lullaby at his ears. She gave him her whole tenderness and for an instant nothing was said or done. Her tickling finger at the back of his neck was eventually his cue. Reluctantly, he rolled off of her. He loved to stay close to her when they had made love, to feel the intimacy linger on and on, but Sherrezade loved to wash up first and their compromise was to maintain conversation. She filled up the wash basin and he stared dumbly, fondly. She gave him a wink in return.

"Moonlight suits you," she said. "Your hair shines with it. It's very handsome."

He leaned up on elbow to better look at her as they spoke – and, since she was so inclined, to let her better see him and his handsome hair. Early in their marriage, he had been more self conscious, shyer around her, but time had quickly revealed that no boundaries were necessary between her and him. In such a tiny abode, you had to get used to sharing absolutely everything with the person you lived with. Ja'far could not think of a greater blessing than getting used to his Sherrezade.

"And what should I say of you, then?" He replied. "Of your sublime beauty?"

She gave him a teasing glance and wrung water out of the wash cloth before diving it into suddy water again. The lamp had almost given out and it was near as dark as outside, but he knew the details of her by heart even when his eyes didn't make them out.

"You've said it all already," she said.

"Not enough. Never enough." He paused, realizing how peaceful he felt in their banter. "You know, I do feel so much better."

Comfort and silence enveloped them both and he lay back down. A yawn took him by surprise. It was, after all, so very late.

"I'm glad," she said. The wash cloth stopped at her chest as she turned to give him a soft smile. "I believe in you. I always have, if that means anything."

"Honey, that means _everything_," he replied immediately.

A lukewarm damp washcloth thrown on his torso was her reply. Inciting him to his feet, she took his place in the bed, not without exchanging a kiss as their ways crossed. He changed the basin's water and she stretched herself into bed, snuggling into the mess they had left of the linens.

"Make quick of it," she said languidly. "I miss you."

Ja'far made quick of it – he missed her as well. Freshened up at record speed, he joined her back in bed and gave her the embrace she pleaded for. Her hair, slightly damp with sweat and the heat, was soft and he buried his fingers through it, gently scratching the scalp underneath. Sherrezade kissed his shoulder contentedly.

"They'll accept the law eventually," she said. "And they'll accept you."

The law was furthest from his mind as could be. He smiled and kissed the crown of her head.

"I don't know what I'd do without you, my love."

Another yawn and she nuzzled closer into his embrace, ready for sleep.

"And you'll never need to wonder," she said. "Because I'll be at your side forever."

**Author's Note:**

> Hey!!! If you've read this please leave a comment. I fucking love this ship but I'm really scared to be yelling at the void and no one is actually reading this.


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